Title:        Rifts
Author:       Lovesfox
E-Mail:       lovesfox@rogers.com
Website:      www.geocities.com/fanficcorner
Rating:       R
Category:     Angst, Story, Post-Episode
Spoilers:     Up to and including En Ami 
Summary:      Can they heal the rifts between them?
Archive:      Please ask first

Disclaimer:   Mulder, Scully and The Lone Gunmen do
              not belong to me.  I mean no harm, nor
              will I make a profit from this story.

Note:         Scenes from the episode En Ami have been
              used without permission

Warning:      Heavy angst, an unintentional act of 
              violence

Thanks:       Nancy, MAL and Mortis 

~~~

Rifts Part 2 of 2
by Lovesfox


37 Hours Later

Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, D.C.
1:30 pm


Rounding the corner, her arms full of groceries, keys
clutched in one hand, Scully lifted her gaze momentarily. 
While out performing some very necessary errands, she had
taken to walking with her head down, feeling as if all
eyes had been on her.  Fortunately, Sunday afternoons
at her local grocery store were always quiet.

She was dressed casually, in faded jeans, a tee shirt 
and leather jacket, with sneakers.  And of course a pair
of sunglasses and a baseball hat with its brim pulled 
low.

She was surprised when she spied long, jean-clad legs 
and booted feet sprawled in her hallway...

...right beside her door, it appeared.

In the split second it took for her eyes to scan the rest 
of the person's figure, she recognized Mulder.  Her steps 
faltered, and she nearly dropped one of the bags. 

He had been gone - missing, untracked by the Gunmen - for     
almost two days, and her emotions had been in a continual
state of flux.  She had spent those hours since she had 
seen him last vacillating between intense worry and fear 
that he had gone and done something rash, or that he could 
be hurt somewhere, and extreme anger at him for taking off 
without a word to anyone.  

She was suddenly very uncomfortable.

'Never let them see you sweat.'  An adage she had long 
ago taken to heart.  A childhood spent being the new
kid on the base.  Med school, the Academy, the old 
boys network of the FBI. 

Though that had never been the case with Mulder - after 
a rough start to their initially contrived partnership, 
and the occasional slip-up, he had treated her as an 
equal.  

But perhaps she had taken the saying too seriously.  
Deeply engrained within her now, sometimes it was still 
difficult after seven years with Mulder to not hold back 
a part of herself.  To relax the guard on her emotions.  

Others had thought her cold, and unfeeling.

Her mind shied away from that issue, and instead flicked 
back to his words that night in his apartment.  His 'Yes, 
damn it!' in response to her question as to whether he 
thought she needed his permission to go with Spender.  
There had been no equality then, only the proverbial 
double standard.

She gritted her teeth and shoved the thought away.  This 
was not the time or the place to be having such a debate.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she continued on,
as if undisturbed.  An icy cold feeling of calm washed 
over her as each step brought her closer.

With her approach, Mulder slowly climbed to his feet, 
studiously staring down at them, and shuffled a bit to 
one side.

When she was standing before him, he lifted his head 
and started to speak, saying her name softly, his voice 
trailing off.  "Scully..."  His breath huffed out noisily, 
and then he held up his keys.  "I was going to let myself 
in, but...my key...my key didn't work."

Her lock had been changed, an odd impulse she did not
regret.  

After coming home from the hospital and refusing Byers' 
offer to stay, she had paced her apartment, desperately
wanting, *needing* sleep, but unable to actually do so.  
Spent long moments staring at her phone, willing it to 
ring.  Willing it to be Frohike or Langly saying that 
they had found him, that he was okay.  Willing it to be 
Mulder, telling her he was coming over.

By the time dawn had arrived, streaking across the sky, 
she had been exhausted and emotionally spent.  She had 
called Frohike for an update, and then asked him to come 
to her apartment.  Upon his arrival, she had made her
request.

Scully recalled the look on the little man's face as he 
had complied, carrying out his task.  Understanding 
mixed with confusion.  Sadness and regret.  There had
been anger as well - anger towards Mulder, Scully knew.
For though Frohike was aware that her broken nose had
been an accident, one she did not blame Mulder for, he
and the other two Gunmen were as disturbed as she was 
by his disappearance.

She had not explained why she had wanted her lock 
changed, had not been sure if she could.

Motivated by Mulder's disappearance and her skewed 
sense of reasoning.  Stress, lack of sleep, pain and
discomfort - all had been factors, she supposed.

Perhaps it had even been an irrational fit of pique.

"I had my lock changed," she stated flatly then.  Her 
chin lifted slightly, jutting towards the door in a 
silent demand for him to move out of her way.  "Excuse 
me, please."

He moved back further, his face blank.  But his eyes 
showed his sorrow and his guilt.  His fear.  "Scully..."  
Again his voice faded away.

Scully sighed.  "Yes, Mulder."  She said the words 
tonelessly, without inflection.  Emotionlessly, while 
her thoughts were in turmoil.  

Why had he come there?  Did he think everything would 
be all right now that he had?  Again, her feelings were 
very conflicted - she couldn't help being relieved that 
he was there, that he was apparently all right, but she 
hadn't been ready to face him, wasn't ready to forgive 
him yet.  

Not because of her injury, that had been an unfortunate
accident for which they had both been to blame.  But for 
taking off afterwards, for vanishing without any word, 
leaving her to wonder and worry.  

For yet another ditch, though this time it had not been 
for a case or a lead, or to chase lights in the sky.
 
"May I come in?" he asked, after a long moment.

She remained with her sunglass-covered eyes staring at 
the smooth, white surface of her door, refusing to turn 
her head and look at him.  Refusing to see the plea she 
knew would be there.  She did not want to be swayed, as 
she had been so many times before, by the look in his 
eyes, and the unconscious, child-like pout on his face.  

"Mulder."  Stopping, she sighed again, then took another 
deep breath before continuing.  "I don't think so."  
Adding silently to herself, not now.  

"I need...Scully, I need to talk to you.  Please."

He needed?  Anger burned.  "You need..." she started to 
spit out, then stopped herself.  He wanted to talk about 
needs?  "Fine," she snapped.  "Come in."  

With that, she unlocked and opened the door, stalking 
inside.  Pausing at the little table where her 
answering machine sat, she dropped her keys upon it with 
a thunk, and then shifted the grocery bags awkwardly to 
one arm, fully aware of Mulder standing just inside the 
door, silent.  Her back partially to him, she pulled off 
her baseball cap and dropped it on top of her keys.  Her 
sunglasses were next, to also be discarded on the table, 
before she continued on into the kitchen.

Tension had her shoulders tight, and she rolled her head 
from side to side a few times before shrugging out of her
jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair.  She then
began to unpack the bags of groceries she had sat upon 
the counter.  

She took her time deliberately, trying to calm down.  
Moving with easy, methodical motions to put each item 
in its proper place.

Finally the front door snicked shut, and she heard his 
footsteps slowly approaching.  Without turning to look 
at him, she could sense that he was standing there by 
the doorframe.  Watching her.

Tired of the silence, her nerves feeling as though they 
were about to snap, she blurted out, "So, where have you 
been?"  Immediately after the words were out, she wished 
she could have bitten her tongue off, remembering she had 
planned to play it cool and act unconcerned.  To not let 
him see how he had hurt her, not just physically, but 
emotionally.

When Mulder did not reply, she slammed down the can of 
soup she had been about to put in the overhead cupboard, 
banging it hard on the counter, and whirled around.  

Forgetting he had never really gotten a good look at 
her face.

He made a strangled noise, then sucked in his breath.  
Her name passed his lips, sounding choked.

She knew in the harsh light of the kitchen, her bruises 
had to be lurid.

His unintentional elbow to the face had left her with 
two black eyes, quite prominent now after a day and a 
half, and a still slightly swollen, purplish nose.

Mulder staggered back, hand flailing for support, and 
she instinctively leapt forward to help him, grabbing 
for his arm.

"Jesus, Scully," he was gasping.  "God...I...I did that 
to you...I didn't...I didn't know...Jesus, I'm sorry, 
I'm sorry..."  He backed up, his eyes wide, the pupils 
dilated, nearly eclipsing the irises.  "I have to go," 
he mumbled then, not looking at her any longer, and 
turned away completely.

"Mulder!" she exclaimed loudly, harshly.  Hurrying 
after him, she grabbed his arm once more, leaning 
her body back at the same time.  The memory of the 
suddenness of his elbow flying up and hitting her 
hard was still fresh.  "You owe me...You owe *us* 
more than this."

His arm in her hold was taut, tense, and she knew he 
was poised to flee.  Again.  She tightened her grip, 
and repeated his name, her voice strident.

The tension left his body suddenly, his entire being 
deflating, and his shoulders slumped.  "Yes.  I do," 
he said quietly.  Shamefully.  

"I think we should sit down."  Her voice was calmer, 
though her nerves were not.

Mulder nodded his head jerkily, still not looking at 
her, and made no effort to move.

Scully realized that she needed to take the initiative, 
and although that rankled, she released his arm and 
walked past him to sit in the chair by the couch.  

She had automatically crossed her arms over her chest, 
and recognized that her posture was defensive.  Forcing 
herself to relax, she lowered her arms to her lap, 
though her fingers twined together instead.

Mulder followed at last, moving by her chair to sink 
ponderously into the couch.

A leaden silence filled the room.  It was oppressive 
and heavy.  Uncomfortable.

Annoyed that he had yet to meet her eyes, that it 
seemed he kept his head down so that he would not 
meet them, Scully turned her own head to stare out 
the window.  

From her seated position, all that was visible was 
a patch of the afternoon sky, and perhaps the corner
of the building across the street.  It suddenly seemed 
important to determine whether it was indeed that 
which she was seeing, and she shifted forward slightly 
for a better look.

The chair made a creaking sound as she moved, and 
that apparently startled Mulder into speaking.  Which 
in turn startled her.

"Scully, I-" he began.

She whipped her head back around to see him finally 
looking at her, his Adam's apple bobbing with what 
she assumed was nervousness.  Her right eyebrow lifted 
when he did not continue.

Whether or not it was that action that prompted him, 
he finally spoke.  His voice was low, and filled with
such remorse that Scully automatically softened.  
Empathized with his distress.

"Scully...Jesus, Scully, I hope-"  He stopped, sighed
harshly, and tried again.  "While I know I don't have
the right to pray for such a thing, I do.  I pray
that you can forgive me for hurting you."  

His pain-filled eyes were focused on her face, but
Scully knew he was not really seeing her - he was 
seeing only the bruises and swelling.  One of his 
hands rose, perhaps unconsciously, and began rubbing 
the bridge of his nose.

"Mulder," Scully said softly, leaning forward in her
seat, her elbows on her thighs, hands still clasped,
but loosely, and dangling between her knees.  Her 
voice became earnest.  "There's nothing to forgive 
for...for this," bringing one hand up to gesture at 
her face.  "It was purely an accident.  I *know* that, 
and you...You must believe that."  

It was her turn to pause, to suck in a noisy breath.  
Her eyes shifted from his, scanning the room unseeingly, 
before returning to him again.  Her own sense of guilt
would not allow her to remain silent about her role in
the incident at his apartment.  About how she had
deliberately baited him with her 'I'm fine'.  

"I also know that I was provoking you."  She stated 
it wryly.

A myriad of expressions crossed his face as she told 
him there was nothing to forgive - shock, surprise, 
hope - yet his entire demeanor bespoke of defeat.  He 
shrugged half-heartedly in response to her last 
statement, neither denying nor confirming it.  Merely 
accepting it with complete apathy.

Rather than moving her to try and assuage him, it 
antagonized her.

Trust Mulder to avoid the obvious root of the problem 
- his attitude and his behavior towards her after she
had returned from her trip with CGB Spender.  To focus 
solely on himself, and mire in his own guilt over 
something that had been an accident.  Ignoring 
completely the underlying issues.  

Such as his inability to accept that she too had a 
need to search for answers.  Answers to *their* quest.  

There was also the fact that he had felt betrayed by 
her actions, and that he had felt she needed his 
permission to do so.  That he had not trusted her 
judgment.

"Mulder, you have to let it go," Scully told him wearily, 
tamping down the automatic surge of frustration and 
re-emerging anger.  "It was an accident, end of story."  
She grimaced, her hands tightly clasped again.  Her 
voice strengthened.  Became brusque.  "We have other, 
more important things to talk about now."

He blinked once, twice, very slowly, but said nothing.

It reminded Scully of her earlier attempts to talk to 
him, and how he had ignored and avoided her.  Dredging
up the feelings of hurt and ire and confusion.  Her
teeth ground together.  Damn him.

"Mulder!" she prompted with no small amount of asperity.

His hands came up, to rub over his face, muffling his 
voice.  "I don't...I don't know where to start, Scully."

"You could start by telling me where the hell you've 
been for the last two days!"  Scully spit out, now
letting her anger have full rein.  Her back was ramrod 
straight, and it felt like her spine could easily snap 
in two from the tension. 

Surging out of the chair, she found herself standing 
in front of the window, with no knowledge of walking 
there.  With her hands on her hips, she breathed 
deeply and slowly.  In through the nose, out through 
the mouth.  Again and again, until she felt calmer.

At last she turned around, her mouth opening, ready 
to demand he either speak or leave.  Seeing him, she 
stopped.

Mulder had moved, sliding forward so that he was now 
perched on the edge of the couch.  He was also partially 
mimicking her earlier pose - forearms on his thighs, 
his hands dangling between his knees, although they 
were not clasped together.  His gaze was cast downwards
however, not directed towards her.

Still, she thought he was finally ready to talk, to
explain himself, and further held her tongue.

"I was in Charlotte, North Carolina," he said quietly, 
lifting his head from his intent contemplation of his
shoes, meeting her eyes at last.  He nodded slightly, 
one corner of his mouth lifting infinitesimally in 
response to the look of surprise Scully knew had 
flashed across her face.  

He sobered as quickly as the brief smile had touched 
his lips.  "After I left my apartment, I got in my 
car, hit the Beltway, and just drove, Scully.  Drove 
for hours, until I could barely keep my eyes open any 
longer and my hands hurt from gripping the steering 
wheel."  He shrugged then.  "Found some cheap motel, 
tried to crash.  But I just couldn't sleep.  My mind 
just wouldn't stop turning.  Torturing me."

Keeping her eyes on him, really looking at him for the 
first time since she had spotted him in her hallway, 
she could see the fatigue and the stress in every line 
on his face, the weary set of his body.  His face was 
pale, his cheeks and jaw stubbled with at least a day's 
worth of growth, and his eyes were mere shadows of 
their former depth of expression, with dark circles 
beneath them - further evidence of his exhaustion.

Some of her anger dissipated.  But not all of it.  It
could not be appeased solely by his obvious remorse 
and suffering.  Mulder had said he needed to talk to 
her.  Well she needed to hear him talk.

He continued.  "I kept thinking what if I hadn't been 
so lucky, and you hadn't come home?  That you had been
killed just as Cobra had been killed."  His voice had
roughened with obvious emotion, become ragged.  "Or
sometimes, for a sick twist, I imagined that you just
never came home at all.  That I would never know what
had happened to you." 

Mulder looked away then, and Scully watched his Adam's 
apple working as he swallowed convulsively.

Her own mind was turning over his usage of 'I' when 
he had said 'what if I hadn't been so lucky'.  Had it 
been a slip of the tongue?  Had he said 'I' instead of 
'you' in error, or had he really been talking about 
himself?

She suspected it was the latter - that he was once 
again making this all about himself, perhaps even 
unconsciously.  Rather than make assumptions though, 
sensing there could be a deeper motivation, she 
thought that she should hear him out first.

At the same time, she couldn't help the faint hope 
that was stirring within her - that maybe he had 
reacted out of his fear for her, out of his love 
for her.

After all their years together, time spent on cases,
in the office and on the road, on stakeouts and in 
cheap diners and cheaper motels, she still wondered.  
Every glance, every touch between them bespoke of a 
connection.  Maybe it went deeper than she thought.

She simply did not know where she stood with him.

He had accused her in the past of hiding her feelings,
of not communicating them, and she was fully aware she
was doing it right that minute, had been since he had
arrived.  

But he was as guilty of that as she.

In her mind she suddenly heard his groggy 'I love you'
as he lay in his hospital bed after being pulled from
the ocean in the Bermuda Triangle.  She had attributed 
his statement to his ordeal and his medication, and
brushed it off, and they had never spoken of it again.

Mulder cleared his throat then, pulling her from her
reverie.  He was still looking off somewhere to the 
side when he spoke again.  

"I've lived that already, Scully.  More than once.  
And it wasn't really living.  It was existing.  
Barely."

Oh God.  Her abduction by Duane Barry and subsequent 
missing time.  And then Antarctica.

A glimmer of understanding had her shivering slightly,
unnoticed by her partner, sitting in silence several
feet away.  He had linked her absence during her trip 
with Spender to her abductions.

She couldn't allow this to sway her, or let her forget
all that had passed between them.  It just wasn't 
possible.  Too much had been done, and not near enough 
said.  

But she could try to explain.  Try and show him how
one-sided his perspective had been, and still was,
and how it had affected her. 

Once more her feet carried her before she was aware 
of moving.  To his side, where she sank down on the 
couch, scant inches separating their bodies.  

He did not look at her, not even a sidelong glance.  

She wanted to touch him, but was afraid he would pull 
away, reject her, as he had the other night in his 
apartment.

"Mulder," she began hesitantly and then stopped, for 
that bothered her.  That was not her, not how she was.  
She was not meek.  She strengthened her voice.  "I 
wasn't missing.  I left you a message, and I called 
to check in with Skinner-"

"A 'family emergency', Scully?" he broke in, sarcasm
evident.

Admittedly not the best of cover stories.  But she 
would not back down.  "He was *there*, Mulder.  
Spender was right there with me.  I couldn't tell you
what was really happening, where I was going.  He 
said...He said if I told you, the offer was void."

Mulder's head snapped sharply around, and he stared
at her with narrowed, intently focused eyes.

She held them steadily with her own eyes.  "His exact 
words were, 'Agent Mulder hears a breath of this rest 
assured, I'll rescind it...take it to my grave'," she 
quoted.  Grimacing, she continued, impassioned.  "I 
couldn't take that chance, Mulder.  If there was any 
truth to his claims at all, I *had* to know."

His mouth opened, and she knew what he was going to 
say.

"Yes, there were risks, Mulder," she spoke before he
could, forestalling his retort.  "But we both face 
risks all the time.  And because the offer was only 
for me, it was a decision I had to make.  On my own."

He twitched, and an expression that implied he was 
going to argue the point crossed his face.

She quirked an eyebrow at him in warning, and added,
"Just as you have made decisions without me, Mulder, 
and put yourself at risk by your choices, I did the 
same."

Mulder nodded after a second, an acknowledgment of 
the truth in her statement.  It was probably the
only one she would get from him, unless she pressed
him on it.  He then looked away from her, down at 
his shoes.  

"Was this payback for those times, Scully?" he asked 
quietly, tightly.  His voice held no rancor, however, 
but it demanded an answer nonetheless.

He brought his eyes back to hers, and Scully could
see the effort the question had cost him.  In his
hazel orbs she could see hurt and worry - that he 
was disturbed.  She also somehow knew that although 
he wanted an answer, at the same time he was reluctant 
to hear one.

It was odd and painfully amusing how well they knew 
each other on some levels, and were so completely
clueless on others.  If only their verbal skills were
as strong as their non-verbal ones when communicating
on a personal level.

Her first instinct was to reply with an emphatic, 
and insulted, no.  The idea of payback had never 
occurred to her at all during the difficult decision
to go with Spender.  The words sank in further, and 
gave her pause.  

"Mulder, that's not the point," she said firmly after 
a moment.  "Although I must admit it is quite possible 
that subconsciously I was getting back at you...paying 
you in kind for all those times you ditched me."

He ignored her disclosure, seemed to lay it aside,
and went straight to the heart of the matter.  

This made her wonder if he had expected her reply, 
that somehow he thought it was nothing more than he 
deserved.  Both of them had known about, and danced 
around, that sore spot for years, but never discussed 
it or confronted it.  Maybe it was time she did.

"What is the point then, Scully?" is what he asked, 
his eyes searching her face.  As if trying to divine 
the answer from her features.

"The point, Mulder, is your lack of trust in me, and 
your behavior after I came home."

"Jesus Christ, Scully!" he barked out.  It was his 
turn to heave himself off the couch.  He did not go 
to the window, though, merely began to pace.  "I was 
worried about you!  I didn't know where the fuck you 
were!"  Each exclamation got increasingly louder,
until he was close to bellowing.  He was now standing
right in front of her, leaning down over her.  "I 
should have been there to back you up!"

Had he not listened to her?  Had the words 'if I told
you, the offer was void' not sunk in?

"Mulder!" she yelled, rising to her own feet.  Getting
right in his face, as he had gotten in hers.  He 
actually took a step back, and she felt a rush of 
bitter satisfaction.

"I did what I had to do!" she continued.  "You were 
not...you *could not* be a part of this."  Her hands 
were on her hips now.  To stifle the urge to grab his 
arms and shake him.  "And I told you I tried to record 
everything."

His surprise had not lasted long, and he was back in 
her face again, their noses almost touching.  Still 
yelling.  "Well where the hell is the tape, Scully?  
Huh?  Where is it?"

"How the hell should I know?" she screamed back.  "I
mailed it from a gas station on the way, I don't know
what happened to it.  Maybe the damn thing is still 
there!"

Mulder blinked then, rapidly, and seemed to deflate 
a little, easing back just slightly.  As if he were 
finally accepting there really had been a tape. 

But she was too charged up to let it go.  And the
thought that he might have doubted the existence of
a tape infuriated her.  Awoke her usually dormant
aggressive side.

One hand left her hip, her index finger pointed 
towards Mulder, aimed dead center at his chest.  
She jabbed him there, none too gently, keeping the 
pressure on as she began to speak, her brows deeply
furrowed.  "Did you doubt me, Mulder?" she gritted 
out, leaning into him to apply even more pressure.  
Enough to actually cause him to back up a step.

The surprise and anger on his face barely registered.

She followed, jabbing again.  "It's more than you've
ever done," she continued caustically.  "I usually 
only get a call when you're in the hospital, or you 
need me to bail you out!  *If* you call at all, that 
is!  Case in point, the last two days!"

Mulder's hand came up, and grabbed hers, squeezing
slightly, snatching it from his chest.  He released
it almost at once, a look of apology and perhaps
worry now clouding his eyes, which were fixed on her
bruised face, and held up both his hands in the 
classic cease-fire position.  "I'm sorr-" he started 
to say.

It wasn't until Mulder had moved her hand away that 
Scully realized she had been poking him.  She felt a
flash of guilt, especially since it was obvious he
was very bothered by the fact that he had reacted by
grabbing her.  Remembered how distraught he had
been at seeing the evidence of his elbow to her nose
just a short time ago.  Wondered if he was concerned
that she might be frightened of him.

Shaking her head to wave off his apology, she took 
a step back herself, and said in a much calmer tone,
"It's okay, Mulder, and I'm sorry for pushing you.
That was inexcusable."  

Hopefully she was also conveying the message that she 
was not frightened of him.  Alleviating his unspoken 
and unfounded fear.

His shoulders lifted in a tiny, dismissive shrug,
his face a careful blank.  Once more hiding his
feelings.

They were certainly a matched pair.

Scully took a deep, hopefully steadying breath, 
lifting a hand to run through her hair.  Some of 
the urgency had left her, along with the adrenaline 
rush that had come with it, and she was suddenly 
very weary.  "Can we sit?" she asked, and gestured 
at her couch.

Mulder briefly jerked his head once in affirmation, 
and Scully sank down onto one end of the sofa with 
a little sigh.  He copied her a second later, sitting
stiffly at the opposite end, with the middle cushion 
an obvious and evident no-man's land between them.  
Though at least he was semi-turned towards her.

Staring at his partial profile, she could think of 
absolutely nothing to say.  All the words she'd had 
stored up had disappeared, apparently leaving with 
the last of her energy.  

Mulder sighed then, the tension visibly leaving his
body, and sagged into the sofa cushion's back.  She
watched as he lifted one hand and scrubbed it over
his face.  "Scully..." he murmured.  "I didn't...I
*don't* doubt you."  His hand dropped to his lap 
and he shrugged once more, an easy movement of his 
shoulders, signifying the end of that topic.  Then 
a lopsided half-smile transformed his face for a 
moment as he turned his head to look at her completely.  
"You *know* me, Scully.  I internalize."

He also used humor as a shield, or a deflector, Scully
mused to herself.  Just as she hid behind the staunch 
excuse of 'I'm fine', and did not tell him when she 
was not fine.

Pushing those thoughts away, her own smile was rueful.
"We both do, Mulder."

He nodded in agreement, his expression serious again. 
"I was so focused on the fact that you had gone 
without me...that I hadn't known where you were," he 
said somberly, "the rest...it just didn't register."

"Mulder," Scully spoke with equal somberness, her 
hands now tightly clasped.  "I understand that, I 
really do, but you have to understand that I can 
take care of myself.  That I don't need you to 
protect me."  To ease the sting, she added, "To 
help me, yes, to back me up, yes.  *Always*.  But 
not to protect me."

Again she forestalled his protests before he could
voice them, by asking, "Mulder, do you think I am 
a capable agent?" 

His mouth gaped open like a fish before he sucked
in a breath and rushed out, "Yes, of course I do!"

"Then why do you doubt me, doubt my capabilities?"

More gaping, and then he was shaking his head.  "No,
no, no.  Never," he said rather vehemently.  And 
then more quietly, "It has been, and will always be
a privilege having you as my partner, Scully."  
Simple, yet utter sincerity.
  
His eyes held hers intently, and a second later he 
blurted out, "I can't lose you, Scully!"  
Immediately after, he looked away, off towards her 
window.  Clearly not in control of his emotions.

Scully had the impression that he had not meant to
say those words, and was perhaps embarrassed that
he had done so.  She was also somewhat stunned by 
his revelation, despite having halfway-suspected
deep down that might have been his motivation.

It really explained so many things - particularly
his reaction and behavior after her trip with
Spender.  Even his demeanor when they were on a
case in the field.  He was attempting to ensure
he would not lose her - in any way.

"Mulder," she husked out, her voice cracking on the 
second syllable.  "Oh God, Mulder, you won't lose 
me."  

Although she was still hesitant about touching him,
she diminished the physical distance between them,
one of their many rifts, by sliding across the sofa
until they were once again almost touching.

"I too, consider it a privilege, and an honor, to 
have you as my partner, Mulder," she told him.
Looking down at her lap, at her hands resting atop
her thighs, her peripheral vision caught sight of
Mulder's hands, similarly positioned upon his legs.

After the slightest of hesitations, she lifted her
hand and placed it atop his.  She smiled faintly
as their fingers automatically entwined.  With her 
eyes on their quasi-linked hands, she said softly, 
"Even if they forcibly tear us apart, Mulder, I will 
*always* be your partner.  We'd find a way."

Mulder turned his wrist then, so that their hands
touched palm to palm, fingers lacing together again.
He squeezed, a gentle persuasion for her to look at
him, and she brought her eyes to his face.

Recognizing that he had something important to say,
something he found difficult it seemed, she sat
quietly, waiting.  Her body was tense though, her
nerves jangling.

He cleared his throat, paused, and then spoke.  
"Scully, I-"

Her phone rang then, the shrillness and unexpectedness
of the sound making both of them jump, and the moment 
was regretfully lost.  Scully nervously pulled her hand 
from his, and turned her head to stare at her portable 
phone, sitting on the coffee table.  But she made no 
move to answer it.

It rang three more times before her machine picked
up.

"Scully, you there?  It's Frohike," they heard through
her answering machine.  

As if she wouldn't recognize his voice, Scully thought 
to herself, even as she was making a mental note to 
change the setting on her machine, so that messages 
were not audible.  

Beside her, Mulder shifted restlessly, and she glanced 
back at him to see him looking at her answering machine, 
an expression of interest on his face.

"We found Mulder!" Frohike continued, drawing her 
attention to the machine as well.  A pause followed, 
with crackling sounds, and then, "Scully?  Can you 
pick up?  Scully?"  His next words were faint, sounding 
slightly smothered, as if his hand were covering the 
mouthpiece.  "She's not answering."

The phone was disconnected with a noisy clunk, her 
machine beeping a strident note.

Distantly, there was the sound of another phone ringing.
Her cell phone, which was in the pocket of her jacket,
hanging in the kitchen.  It wasn't necessary to speculate
on the caller.  After the call on her home line, she knew 
it had to be Frohike.

Scully turned back to Mulder fully, and he lifted 
his eyebrow in a silent query.  Her cheeks went pink, 
and the smile she gave him was self-conscious.  "The
Gunmen have been looking for you," she told him.  
"Monitoring the police bands and watching your accounts
and credit cards for any activity.  They even checked 
all the bars and hospitals in Alexandria and the 
surrounding area."

Mulder actually smiled at that, showing his teeth - 
most likely at the combination of search locations.
Then the smile slid away and he asked, "How...how did
they..."

"How did the Gunmen know?" she asked for him.  She 
had expected the question, and hoped her reply did 
not stir up his earlier distress over her injury,
though the hope was a faint one.  

At his nod, she replied matter-of-factly, "I didn't 
know who else to call that night.  My mother was out 
of town, although I don't know if I would have called 
her even if she had been home, and I couldn't explain 
it to Skinner.  *Wouldn't* explain it to him."

His eyes widened at the mention of Skinner, even as
a frown down-curved his lips and caused deep lines 
on his face.

"I covered your ass on that one, partner," she said 
tartly, emphasizing 'partner'.  "I told him you were
checking some leads on a possible new case, and that
I was taking a few personal days."

"Thank-you, Scully," he said low-voiced.  He shifted
until he was leaning forward with his elbows on his
knees, hands dangling and eyes focused on his shoes.

Damn.  He was thinking about that night in his
apartment, she knew it.  "Mulder, please don't,"
she said, touching his arm.  Rubbing it gently.
"It's in the past, it's over."

"Scully, I *left* you," he said hoarsely.  "Alone 
and hurt."  He lifted his head to stare into her 
eyes.  "Was there a lot of blood?"

Scully thought about the sweatshirt she had thrown 
out, and the puddle on his floor that she had gone
back to clean, when she had hoped to find him there, 
and hadn't.  She couldn't lie though, he'd know.  
"You've broken your nose before, haven't you?" she
asked him.  Her question was actually an indirect
answer - she was fully aware he had broken his nose
many years ago, and that he'd bled 'like a stuck
pig' as he'd so quaintly put it.

He winced, and touched the bridge of his nose with
an index finger, rubbing lightly.  "Yeah."

She didn't say anymore.  She could see that he 
remembered there had been a significant amount of 
blood by the look on his face.  "Mulder, I was a 
little freaked when I realized you were gone, yes," 
she said honestly, "but I think I understand now 
why you left."

The look on his face indicated he was slightly
taken aback by her statement.  It was possible 
he was comforted by it as well.  

"You do?"

Scully nodded.  She'd had plenty of time to think 
about it in the last day or so, and some of what 
they'd said in the last twenty minutes had 
clarified things.

It still hurt and angered her that he'd gone, but
she understood.  She accepted it - had no choice
really, unless she was prepared to leave their
partnership.

She wasn't.

Though why he had felt it necessary to disappear 
for that length of time continued to bother her, 
and left her hoping that things would change now.  
Particularly after the incident at his apartment, 
and because of their talk.

"You said it yourself, Mulder," she replied, 
leaning into him to butt him gently with her 
shoulder, hoping to coax a smile out of him.  

He moved with her, and even applied the same 
force in nudging her back, though he remained 
somber-faced.

Slightly heartened by that response, she continued,
repeating his words of earlier.  "You internalize," 
she said.  "You keep these things inside while you 
process them, and I got in your face, forced you to 
share them before you were ready.  And then when...
it...happened, you had to leave."

There was no need to clarify what 'it' was, neither
of them was likely to ever forget what had happened.

Scully had to stop and swallow a thickness in her
throat as she remembered that moment back in his
apartment when she had realized he was gone, 
briefly re-experienced that shock.  Clearing her 
throat, she explained further,  "Similar to the 
fight or flight instinct, you didn't want to argue 
with me or talk to me, so you ran."

"You *do* know me," was his slightly teasing,
pleased response.  A slow half-smile curved his 
lips upwards, and this time it was he who nudged 
her with his shoulder.

Her heart rate sped up slightly, but her tone was
serious and contemplative.  Maybe even wistful.
"After seven years, Mulder, I'd like to think I 
do."

"Better than anyone else ever did, or ever will,
Scully," he said in a near-whisper.

Despite the flutter that avowal caused within her, 
she was so tempted to ask 'Even Diana?'  But with
this fragile peace between them, she decided it was 
probably prudent to refrain from bringing up another
confusing, painful issue.

Aside from that sarcastic comment, she wasn't quite
sure exactly how to reply.  Mulder was obviously
discomfited by her continuing silence, for he was
moving restlessly beside her.

Finally she uttered a soft and heartfelt, "Thank-you, 
Mulder."

"It's the truth, Scully," he said.  Looking down 
at his feet once again, he continued.  "I know at 
the beginning of our partnership I often...held back, 
or deliberately kept you in the dark, but that was a 
defense mechanism.  I was protecting the X-Files, 
and protecting myself.  Protecting my heart."

He stopped, but did not seem to be finished.  Scully 
wondered if he too was thinking about Diana Fowley, 
and fought back both jealousy over the deceased 
woman's relationship with Mulder, and anger at Diana 
for how she had treated him. 

She reached out, found his hand, and squeezed once.
Offering her support.

He shot her a quick glance of thanks before resuming.  
"As you and I spent more and more time together, 
investigating cases, I found myself wanting to share 
more with you, Scully.  More about the X-Files...more 
of me."  This time when he looked at her, he held her 
gaze.  "But old habits die hard, Scully, and I could 
also see that you too held something back."

It was true.  She had.  Mulder wasn't the only one
who had been burned before, and had developed defense
mechanisms.  Scully quietly hummed her agreement, 
loathe to disturb his retrospection.

He heaved in a breath and exhaled noisily, then spoke 
again.  At long last confessing, or confirming, what 
she had already known.  "And I try to protect you."

Her eyebrows arched, she couldn't help it, and he
shrugged, smiling slightly.  "I know you can take
care of yourself, Scully.  You *are* a capable agent,
don't ever doubt it.  I just can't help it.  It's 
like instinct to me now."

How could she fault that?  Yet as his need to protect
her was instinct, so was her need to be seen as 
strong and independent.  Able to take care of herself. 

"I guess there are just some things we have to accept
about each other, Mulder," she remarked, not without
some sadness.  "As difficult as they may be."

It was Mulder's turn to hum, a low, quiet sound of
agreement, and then he sighed.

A few seconds of heavy silence passed.

"Come on, Scully," Mulder said lightly, nudging her
shoulder once again.  "Admit it.  When you said I
internalize, you really wanted to say that I brood 
too much, didn't you?"  A clear attempt to lighten 
things.

The smile that curved her lips was a natural one.
He *did* brood, and she had been thinking that, to
a certain degree.  It seemed he knew her just as 
well.  She said as much, and watched a shyly content
look appear on his face.  She then added, "Wellll...
maybe I did want to say that, a little."

"Scuh-leee," he intoned mock-seriously, looking
at her with teasing eyes.  "Come on."

"Fine," she said, her smile widening.  She was 
glad he seemed to have pulled himself out of the
mood he had been slipping into.  "You brood.  So 
do I."

"Yep!" he agreed cheerfully, and she shot him a
droll stare, bumping his shoulder with just a bit 
more strength than last time.

A moment passed where they just sat and smiled at
each other.  Then Mulder lifted his hand to touch
his fingertips to her cheek, and asked, "Are we 
okay, Scully?"

"I think we are, Mulder," she replied softly, and
tilted her head, moving into his caress.

His hand cupped her cheek fully then, and he
started to lean forward.

Her heart skipped a beat, and a panicky feeling 
of hope washed over her as she wondered if he was 
going to kiss her.

Please...

Eyes fluttering shut, she lifted her chin slightly,
also leaning forward.

The sensation of heat, and softness and...

Mulder's lips touched the corner of her mouth, 
butterfly-light, applying the barest of pressure.

Not nearly enough pressure.

Scully awkwardly managed to get an arm up, to 
curl her fingers around the nape of his neck,
mutely compelling him forward.  At the same time,
she leaned into him further and turned her face
just enough so that their lips met full on full.

It was a sweet kiss, rather chaste, but all too
brief.

For they both pulled back at the same time, albeit
slowly and with obvious reluctance.  Her hand slid 
from his neck, to land on Mulder's left shoulder, 
while one of his hands somehow ended up resting 
lightly on her leg, just above her knee.

Their eyes met then, and they stared at each other 
in silent communication.  A shared connection - 
deeper and stronger than ever before.

She felt oddly nervous, and even a little confused,
though.  After all that had happened in the last 
few days - her trip with Spender and Mulder's 
reactions to it, their fight and Mulder's subsequent 
disappearance - she hadn't expected this.  

She hadn't expected them to kiss, or to want to 
kiss him again.  Not right then, anyway.

Mulder leaned back a little bit more, still looking
at her, and Scully watched a smile blossom across 
his features.  She smiled back, realizing she was 
also feeling ridiculously giddy.

A second later he said, "The world still didn't 
end, Scully."

Quick flashback to a hospital waiting room on New
Year's Eve, the two of them watching the countdown
on the TV bolted to the wall.  Mulder looking at 
her, and leaning down towards her, she just knowing 
he was going to kiss her.  Feeling nervous and 
surprised and anticipatory all at once.

"Mulder," she began, a little affronted he had 
cracked a joke.  Then she stopped before she could 
form the rest of her protest, and laughed.

It was so him...so *them*.

"Yes, Scully?" he replied in a serious tone of 
voice that was belied by the grin on his face and
in his eyes.

"Nothing," she said.  "Just Mulder."  Impulsively,
she brought her other arm up and threw it around
his other shoulder, hugging him.  His arms came up
and encircled her waist a moment later. 

Sitting beside each other as they were, it wasn't
a full-on hug, and was in fact rather clumsy.

Still, it was nice, and comforting, and it felt 
right.

Mulder shifted, sliding closer to her, the length
of his thigh pressing firmly into hers.  She felt
his hands tighten on her waist, as he seemed to
be using his body to direct hers.  To turn her
towards him, pulling her into him.

Scully had a split second to imagine that he was 
trying to pull her onto his lap, to begin forming 
a picture of...

THUD.  THUD.  THUD.

Loud pounding at her door.

They sprang apart, Mulder actually scrambling to
his feet.  She followed more slowly, slightly
unsteady, and the thuds were repeated, with an
added feature.

THUD.  THUD.  THUD.

"Scully!  You in there?"

Frohike.

Scully hurried to open the door before the obviously
worried little man pounded on it again, thinking of 
her neighbors and all the things they had tolerated. 
Barely.  

Just as her hand reached for the doorknob, it jiggled,
and the door was flung open.

Fortunately she had stepped back in time to avoid
being hit by it, her heart pounding. 

Frohike's eyes bugged open wide behind the thick
lenses of his glasses, mirroring her surprise and
yes, her fright.

"Uhhhh...oh, man.  I'm sorry, Scully!" he got out, 
his eyes running over her from head to toe, as if 
ensuring he had caused no bodily harm.

She shook her head and said, "It's okay, Frohike,"
just as she spied Byers and Langly behind him, 
their gazes already focused over her shoulder.
On Mulder.

She knew when Frohike had found Mulder too, for his 
eyes narrowed, his lips forming a snarling grimace.  

Like a heat-seeking missile locked in on its target,
he started to charge forward.  

Scully stepped quickly after Frohike, saying his
name once in a quiet voice.  Surprisingly, or maybe
not so surprisingly, the little man stopped.

Upon reaching his side, she laid her hand lightly
on his forearm, feeling the tension in his body,
radiating out in angry waves.  "Frohike," she said
his name again, still speaking quietly and evenly.
"It's all right.  Everything's fine."

She was very touched by his obvious concern for 
her welfare, and his protectiveness.  Frohike's 
attraction to her, his affection for her, had been 
something she had never taken seriously, something 
she had attributed to her position as Mulder's 
partner.  Something Mulder had often teased her 
about.

She had only fleetingly considered that in fact it
went deeper - that she was also his friend.  That 
was a great disservice to Frohike, one for which 
she was deeply ashamed.  She vowed to herself to 
make it up to him somehow.

The muscles beneath her fingers bunched, and Scully
thought Frohike was going to charge at Mulder again.
She was prepared to repeat her assurances, but 
Frohike did not move.

Until she took her hand away, thinking he had calmed
down.

She had only backed away one step, intending to ask
Byers and Langly to come all the way in, and to shut 
the door behind them, when Frohike made his move.

Faster than she would have thought him capable, 
Frohike was in front of Mulder, mere inches 
separating them.  Standing toe-to-toe as they were 
emphasized their size differences.  Scully could not 
help the brief flash of amusement at the obvious 
David and Goliath scenario, despite the gravity of 
the situation, and mentally chastised herself for
the thought.

The little man thrust his chin forward pugnaciously,
and with a scowl on his face, loudly demanded, "Where
the hell have you been, punk-ass?"

Mulder stiffened, and his hands, which had been
hanging loosely at his sides, tightened into fists.

Though the two men were several feet away from her,
Scully could easily read the expressions crossing
Mulder's face.  Initially she had seen amusement, 
but it was quickly replaced by frustration and 
annoyance, and on their heels, anger.

The last one worried her.

She had never fully understood Mulder's relationship
with the trio, actually knew very little of how it
had come into existence.  But she did know that 
Mulder considered them very good friends, and counted 
on them a great deal.

However, Mulder could be obstinate and difficult
when faced with his own errors in judgment - as
evidenced not too long ago.  It was somewhat 
frightening to think that his friendship with 
Frohike, and by extension with Byers and Langly, 
could be destroyed because of stubbornness and 
misunderstanding.

Before she could move over to them, to be close in 
case things got out of hand, Mulder replied.  By his
carefully chosen words and quiet, controlled voice,
Scully realized her partner had obviously come to 
the same or a similar conclusion. 

"I needed some time away to think, Frohike," Mulder
said.  He did not step back from the angry little
man, but his stance had become open and non-
confrontational.

Frohike didn't relent.  "She was hurt!" he growled.

Both she and Mulder winced - her injury was a sore 
spot for him.  His eyes flicked from Frohike's face
to hers, and she wasn't quite sure if he was asking
for her assistance, or just checking on her, on her
reactions to Frohike's statement.  

Byers and Langly chose that moment to finally enter
her apartment, shutting the door quietly.  She 
looked over at them, to see that Byers seemed worried,
and Langly's expression was inscrutable.  At that,
she took those steps necessary to bring herself 
within a foot or two of Mulder and Frohike.  Neither
of whom glanced in her direction at all.

"I didn't know that, Fro," was Mulder's response,
quietly spoken, but full of emotion.  Shame that he
had not stayed to ensure she was not hurt, and pain
for knowing that he had left when she had been.

"Why the hell didn't you check?"  Frohike asked, his
voice still sharp.  Without giving Mulder time to 
reply, he then somewhat repeated himself in a slighter
quieter tone, "You shoulda checked."

Scully sensed that the majority of Frohike's anger
was gone, but thought with some regret that there 
might be some lingering strain between the two.  
Hopefully not for long.

"Hindsight, Frohike," Mulder said plainly.  Guilelessly.
"I should have checked, but I didn't.  I ran."

Something reached Frohike, whether it was the words
themselves, or those emotions.  He deflated a little,
his shoulders slumping, and then he heaved out a
sound that was half-sigh/half-groan.  "Mulder, man,"
he muttered.  "Leaving like that, it wasn't a good 
thing."

"I know, Fro, I know," Mulder replied.  He said no
more, offered no further defense.

Frohike turned his head to look at her, then back at 
Mulder.  "You two okay?" he asked.

Mulder also looked at her, though he did not turn
back to Frohike when he answered simply.  He kept 
his eyes locked on hers.  "Yes."

She echoed him softly, holding his gaze as well.  
"Yes."

"Then my work here is done," Frohike said, nudging
Mulder lightly in the ribs, sending her an awkward
grin, obviously wondering how she would take his
attempt at humor.  At her small answering smile,
his grew more natural.  He winked at her, and then
turned back to Mulder.  "We'll talk more later, man."

"We will," Mulder agreed, and offered Frohike his
right hand.

They shook, Mulder clapping Frohike's other arm with
his other hand, and then they were all at her door.

Byers and Langly both exchanged nods with Mulder,
shook his hand, and then the Gunmen left.

Scully shut the door slowly, unsure if Mulder was
planning on staying.  When he said nothing to stop
her, she turned the lock and gestured toward the
kitchen.  "Do you want something to drink, or can
I fix us some lunch?"

"That would be great, Scully," was his response. 

"Actually, I think that should be 'we'll fix some
lunch', shouldn't it, partner?" she asked him as
she walked by, throwing him a teasing look.

"I'm with you," he said with mock-cheerfulness.
And then more softly, emotionally.  "Partner."

***

Epilogue

Two Weeks Later

X-Files Office
Friday
5:50 pm

It wasn't until after Scully had packed up her 
laptop, and was slipping into her trench coat that 
Mulder called to her softly.  

The last hour had been an almost entirely silent 
one, albeit a companionable one, with both of them 
caught up in their respective reports.

"Scully?"

She paused mid-sleeve and looked up.  "Hmmm?"

"You doing anything tonight?" he queried, his face
blandly open.  Mildly curious, perhaps.  He was 
sitting with his chair leaning back, feet propped 
on the edge of his desk and ankles crossed.  His
shirtsleeves were rolled back and his tie was askew.  
A file folder was opened on his lap, while one hand 
toyed with his pen.  Idly, absently twirling it.  
Walking it through his fingers.

"Nothing in particular," she replied, shrugging her
coat into place, one hand coming up to straighten
the collar.  "Heading home to relax, I guess."

"Oh."

A simple response.  A simple word.  One that could
mean anything, mean everything.  Or nothing at all.

Scully waited expectantly, but he said nothing
further.  In fact, he went back to studying the 
case file.  His report on the Crittendon case.  

She herself had just finished her final report on 
their supposed female serial killer, who had turned 
out to be a cross-dresser who had 'saved' the
missing prostitutes and set them up in a half-way 
house.  The case she had completed by herself 
after Skinner had sent Mulder on another case.

Things between them had been better, if a little
tentative, since their talk at her apartment two 
weeks ago, but Mulder had been strangely quiet since 
coming back from Vermont the day before.  She knew 
something was on his mind, but hadn't yet been able 
to force herself to ask him exactly what that was.  

Perhaps this was an opportunity now.

"How about you?" she asked, after a long silent
moment spent studying his bent head.

Mulder glanced up briefly, shrugging his shoulders.
"The same," he answered, and then returned to his 
file.

Or perhaps it was not.

With an inward sigh, Scully grabbed her briefcase
and laptop case and turned to go.  "Night, Mulder,"
she said quietly, and headed to the door.

Her hand had turned the doorknob, she had actually
stepped over the threshold of the now opened door,
when he spoke again.

"Scully?"

She stopped, but did not turn around.  "Yes, Mulder?"

"What if I were to drop by around eight or so, with
a pizza, maybe a movie?" 

Scully smiled.  "Make it 7:30."

***

THE END

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